


Slow Show

by BlueColoredDreams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cooking, Ficlets, Fluff, Lingerie, M/M, Tsukkiyama Week, kid!tsukkiyams, smut on day four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's tsukkiyama week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At nine, almost ten, years old, Kei knows that pitching a tantrum like this is childish. But he doesn’t want to share.

Kei sinks into the grass, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He crosses his legs and imagines he’s a stone; he’s not moving from this spot. He’s not.

Akiteru sighs softly. “Kei, get up, that’s not cute,” he instructs, balancing the volleyball against his hip with his arm.

He’s not moving. Not gonna move. He pinches his lips up tighter and scowls.

“Kei. Get up,” Akiteru repeats sharply. “You’re too old for this.”

As much as Kei doesn’t like the tone in Akiteru’s voice—he’s never heard it that frustrated with him before, even when he’d badgered his brother to bits and pieces when he was little—he doesn’t like the alternative any better.

“Kei. You have a friend over and this is what you do?” Akiteru scolds.

Beside Akiteru, Tadashi shifts from foot to foot, face pink. He twists his shirt between his fingers, lip trembling. The sight almost makes Kei rise from his patch of grass and give in, despite being vehemently against the idea. But no. He’d insisted and insisted and he wasn’t going to have a second of it. Instead, Kei turns his face away and staunchly ignores them.

“Um,” comes Tadashi’s soft voice. “It—it’s okay, A…akiteru-san, I can just go home.”

“No, we can do it without Kei, since he’s throwing a tantrum,” Akiteru sighs.

“I’d rather go home,” Tadashi whispers softly. “He doesn’t want me here. It’s okay.”

It’s the opposite, really, but Kei doesn’t say anything, just starts tugging up grass viciously. He hears Tadashi give a quiet sniffle and he wants to bounce up off the grass and capitulate to his brother’s massively stupid idea that he’d _told_ Akiteru he didn’t want to do, but Akiteru had gone on and done it anyway, and maybe he should have just sucked it up.

He listens as Akiteru shepherds Tadashi out of the yard and he waits, tearing up the grass and shredding it until he has a nice little pile. His legs start to itch and he’s starting to think that maybe, nine—nearly ten—is too old to throw a tantrum like this after all. He could just go back inside and say he’s changed his mind, and wants to play after all—though he knows he’s already soured the mood. Maybe he could just explain to Tadashi why he did it.

He shifts and leans forward to get up as Akiteru steps back outside. He lets himself fall back onto his butt stubbornly.

“Well, good job, Kei, mom’s going to take Tadashi home,” Akiteru sighs.

Kei purses his lips and blinks up at Akiteru, who sighs and crosses his arms. “I can’t believe you,” his brother continues sharply. “This is why you never bring home friends. I told you to get along with your teammates, not make them cry,” he continues. “Don’t you realize mom and dad are worried about you? That I am too? Kei, it’s cute that you love me that much, but you’re old enough to know that you can’t do this—you have to learn to share.”

Kei swallows hard against the lump in his throat and he feels his face grow hot. “It’s not—it’s not like that,” he mumbles, glaring at his knees to keep himself from crying.

“Then what is it like, because it looks very much like you hurt your friend’s feelings because you didn’t want me to help him learn how to play volleyball,” Akiteru scolds.

“Because he’s _my_ friend!” Kei bursts out, flushing as his voice cracks and tears start slipping down his face. He scrubs under his glasses harshly, but he can’t stop them now. “He’s _my_ friend and _I_ wanted to teach him, not you, and I _told_ you! B-but you butted in!” He gives a harsh hiccup, feeling very ashamed of himself for crying and being so stubborn over something so small.

But he’s never _had_ a friend before, and Tadashi is _special_. Someone like his brother, who has lots of friends who come and go when there’s no volleyball practice, teammates he talks about, and teachers who adore him, would never understand—he’s scared. He’s scared that if someone else is nice to Tadashi, Tadashi won’t want to be friends with him anymore. He knows how the other kids treat his friend, and while it doesn’t bother him at all that his new friend is a target for bullies, he’s afraid that someone else is going to come and take his friend from him. Or Tadashi will realize how easily Kei walks the line between being passive and being a bully himself.

He wanted to do something small, something only he could do. When Tadashi had shyly admitted he’d never played volleyball before he started club, Kei knew that helping him practice was that something. He’d told Akiteru, but Akiteru had scolded him and told him he wasn’t good enough to do that yet, despite Kei’s insistence, and it was _so frustrating_ and for the first time ever, he was jealous.

Of how easily Tadashi took to Akiteru when they met, and how effortlessly Akiteru had managed to pull grins and laughter from Tadashi that sounded more genuine and eager than anything that Kei had managed—Tadashi was always overly loud with him and enthusiastic, like a lost and lonely puppy, but the way he’d shyly smiled and laughed as Akiteru had teased Kei was softer, and warmer, like pulling a blanket from the dryer in the dead of winter. Kei _hated_ it.

He hated being torn between being proud of how easily his brother got along with others and being happy that Tadashi is comfortable around his brother (because, it would be a grave sin to _not_ be) and the inexplicable jealousy.

Akiteru’s face softens and he gives a sigh. “Kei, you have to learn to share your friends,” he says softly, kneeling down in front of Kei to ruffle his hair. “It’s hard, but you can’t be jealous like this your entire life; you’ll end up hurting his feelings, you know? And I know it’s hard to hear that you can’t do something because you haven’t before, but you need someone to supervise your practice so you don’t hurt yourself, or Tadashi-kun. I’m not trying to take your friend away, and he’s not trying to take your brother away,” Akiteru urges. “If you go quick, you can catch mom and Tadashi-kun before they leave and apologize. And don’t say you don’t wanna, because you do.”

Kei scowls and scrubs at his face again, afraid that if he says anything else, he’ll burst into tears again. He’s almost ten, he thinks, and that’s far too old to be doing this. But he stands and Akiteru gives him a gentle push forward.

He learns how to share a bit better that day, but it still doesn’t quite stop him from being jealous when Tadashi mingles effortlessly with their new teammates or goes off to practice on their own when they’re fifteen, and even sixteen, but now the anxious jealousy is tempered by Tadashi taking his hand and grinning when they’re alone, fingers lacing together.

No one really is going to take his friend away from him, after all.


	2. Joint Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi just wants to make a cake for Kei’s birthday, not a disaster zone.

_“For your birthday,”_ Tadashi’d said, finger in the air like he’d stumbled upon the world’s greatest secret;  _“I think we should make a cake!”_

Never mind that Tadashi  _always_ got him some sort of confectionery for his birthday; it’s been a tradition since the first year that they were friends, when Tadashi presented Kei with a large, store-bought cupcake during lunch. That year, the treat hadn’t been the cupcake itself as much as the plastic dinosaur figure ring that was placed in the center of it. Tadashi had bought a second one for himself, and had looked very pleased to hear relevant factoids about each of their dinosaurs.

Junior high had seen strange, lumpy and crumbly cookies, another cupcake, this time clumsily iced by hand and strawberry flavored, and a tray of white chocolate and strawberry fudge. Last year’s birthday gift was a personal sized cheesecake (with strawberry sauce, of course).

Each year, Tadashi’s cooking gets better. And Kei never can quite find it in him to complain. He just hadn’t realized that ‘we’ meant ‘together’.

“You realize the irony in the fact that I’m helping make my own birthday cake, right?” Kei asks, watching in idle interest as Yamaguchi ties an apron around his waist.

“Helping is the key word, Tsukki,” Tadashi laughs, nose and eyes crinkling up. He pulls his hair off of the back of his neck and winds a rubber band around it.

Kei is momentarily distracted by the sudden appearance of the nape of Tadashi’s neck and the three little freckles that trail along his hairline. He wants to lean forward and kiss them, but Tadashi simply smacks his arm with a spatula.

“Pay attention!” Tadashi teases.

“I am, geesh,” Kei complains, rubbing his arm. He purses his lips, “Look at me, paying attention.”

Tadashi eyes him skeptically. “Well then, mister-I’m-paying-attention, now that we’ve gathered the ingredients, what do you think we’re going to make?” he asks, a laugh in the lilt of his voice.

Kei eyes the countertop carefully. Whipping cream, strawberries, flour. Sugar.“It’s strawberry shortcake?” he asks hopefully.

“Yep!” Tadashi says happily, pulling a printed sheet of paper from under the bag of flour. “I’d thought about buying one for you, or just making it on my own, but…” he turns pink and fidgets with the recipe. “I… wanted to do something different since… we started dating?”

Kei reaches out and pinches Tadashi’s nose affectionately. “Then let’s make it, dork,” he says, giving a soft smile before rolling up his sleeves. “Tell me what to do.”

“First, we have to make the sponge,” Tadashi says, reading the recipe. “So, for that, you need to crack four eggs and separate the yolks out; we’ll need the whites, so keep those too. I’ll preheat the oven.”

Kei nods and starts cracking eggs. He pauses at the second egg, before looking over his shoulder at Tadashi, who’s busy measuring out dry ingredients for later use. “Um. Yamaguchi. How do you separate out the yolks?”

“Ah. Tsukki,” Tadashi scolds, shaking his head a bit helplessly. He smiles faintly as he wipes his hands on his apron, studying the mess Kei’s already made. “Did you keep the shells of the first one?”

“No.”

“Well, give the second one here, and I’ll show you what to do,” Tadashi instructs.

Kei passes the egg over to Tadashi, who deftly cracks it in half and starts pouring the egg’s contents into each half of the shell over and over, until all that’s left is the yolk, which he promptly plops into the stand-up mixer’s bowl. He leans forward and scoops up the yolk in the bowl with the shell as well, and pours it into the mixer. “Can you do that?”

Kei blinks; he doesn’t think he can, but he can’t very well say so. “Yeah.”

Tadashi gives him a strange look before patting him on the shoulder, “All right then, Tsukki. I’ll measure out the sugar for you, okay?”

Kei nods, concentrating on splitting the egg just as cleanly as Tadashi had. A few pieces of shell tumble into the bowl, and yolk gets all over his fingers. By the time he’s done with the other two eggs, shell shards litter the yolks and whites. Tadashi’s already added the sugar so he simply turns on the whisker to cover it up.

“Now what?”

“Oil and milk please—60 grams of milk and 40 of the oil,” Tadashi instructs. He reaches for the bowl of egg whites, whisk in hand. He peers in. “Oh, Tsukki,” he sighs.

“ _Uh_.”

“Oh well,” Tadashi murmurs, picking out the larger chunks, “We won’t die. Measure out the other ingredients and put them in.”

That, that Kei can do. It goes well enough until he starts sifting in the flour mixture that Tadashi’s passed to him. He thinks the half-choked off cry of, “Kei— _wait_ ” should have let him know he was doing something wrong, but it was already too late.

He coughs and sets the flour aside, fumbling for the mixer’s off switch. “It didn’t say to turn off the mixer!” he mumbles.

Tadashi reaches out and wipes some of the flour off of Kei’s cheek, trying hard not to laugh. Or cry. Or both. “Tsukki, it’s… It’s kind of common sense.”

Kei swallows hard, mouth pinching into a disgruntled scowl. He’s never heard Tadashi sound so disappointedly resigned with him. “I—we don’t… mom usually buys shortcakes,” he mumbles.

Tadashi sighs again, and in a fit of sudden desperation to cheer his boyfriend up, Kei reaches out and scoops up some of the runny batter and smears it across Tadashi’s face.  “We match,” he declares.

Tadashi blinks at him, face sliding from absolutely bewildered to irritated to a sly, lopsided grin. He wipes it off of his face and flicks it at Kei, who manages to duck. Tadashi laughs and before Kei knows it, he has a face full of meringue.

“Now go wash the dishes,” Tadashi instructs, still laughing. “I’ll handle the rest of the cake.”

Kei wipes his face and licks a bit of the meringue off of his fingers. “It’s good,” he offers.

Tadashi shakes his head and starts folding his meringue into the yolk batter, “It’s  _something_ ,” he says, studying the floury wreckage of Kei’s attempt. He waves off Kei, “Go wash dishes,” he repeats.

Kei feels like he’s been banished a bit, but he figures he sort of deserves it. He’s never seen Tadashi’s kitchen in such a floury wreckage. He sets to doing the dishes, idly distracted by the way Tadashi’s arms flex as he folds together the meringue and the yolks and flour he’d nearly wrecked.

Somehow, Tadashi manages to fix the wreckage and set the cake safely into the oven. He dusts his hands off onto his apron. “Okay, set your phone timer for twenty minutes, Tsukki,” he chimes. “You can do that, right?”

Kei scoffs and looks up from where he’d been looking at movie listings with absent thoughts of taking Tadashi off on a date on their next day off. If… after this whole cake business, Tadashi still wanted to date him.

Though, judging by the way he gets a spot of cream licked off of his cheek, he thinks Tadashi still wants to date.

An hour later, they have a distinctly crooked and rather shakily frosted cake. Kei’s been banished from even touching it, after having eaten several strawberries instead of placing them between cake layers (or, in one instance, _from_ a cake layer, earning a very stifled shriek and a smack to the hand—and a lopsided layer). Tadashi’s fingers are covered in cream after having to jury-rig a piping bag from a ziplock bag that promptly burst on him—Kei rather wants to suck the cream off of them, but that’s another urge for another day.

“Well, it’s ugly.”

Kei looks over at Tadashi, who looks rather frustrated, cheeks pink and lips screwed up.

“Hey,” Kei murmurs, “I don’t care about that. It tasted fine and…”He trails off, feeling his ears start to burn, “It was fun. To… to do this with you. Even if I sucked.”

Tadashi gives a soft smile. He leans over to kiss Kei on the cheek. “Happy birthday, then, Tsukki. I think that maybe, I should give you cooking lessons for your birthday too.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kei huffs as Tadashi giggles in his ear.


	3. Dress Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei dresses up for a date, sort of. Tadashi thinks about undressing him.

**Dress-Up**

“You’re entirely sure?” Tadashi murmurs, trying to keep his eyes away from the package on the bed. “For real.”

“If I wasn’t certain, would I have spent money on it?” Kei asks, tone slightly frustrated.

Tadashi looks up at the ceiling, very much ignoring the lace and straps. And his boyfriend, who was starting to pick through the package, very much naked. Though, Tadashi thinks he may prefer naked to what’s going to happen next. Not in any bad way, where he’s filled with dread, but in the sort of way that makes him think he’s not quite as functional of an adult as he thought he was.

“But really, you’re sure?” Tadashi inquires again. His mouth goes dry as Kei steps into the garter he’d just pulled from the box, bending forward to pull it up to his waist. He fusses with the back for a moment, untangling the various straps that web across his stomach and hipbones; Tadashi can’t help but stare.

“I think the question is more, are _you_ sure?” Kei laughs, noting Tadashi’s awestruck look. He settles on the edge of the bed and starts rolling on the stockings, lace webbing pulling taut against his skin. “We can’t go out with your tongue hanging out like that. Just like a little doggie,” he snickers. He turns to the side and deftly snaps on the back clasp of the garters.

Tadashi wonders where he’s learned how to do all of this; lingerie for him was a foreign affair. He’d not even really understood the allure until Kei had showed him his purchase and asked if was okay to wear them out under his clothes on a date.

Tadashi, never one to say no to Kei, had nodded and spent the next few weeks daydreaming. However, even his fantasies had managed to catch just how nicely black lace and straps looked against Kei’s skin and pale frame.

Kei catches his gaze and gives a sly grin. “Do you like?”

“Ah, yeah,” Tadashi stammers.

“Too bad,” Kei laughs, picking up his teeshirt and pulling it over his head.

Tadashi thinks that maybe seeing Kei half dressed is even better than in just lingerie. He licks his lips idly as Kei shimmies back into his jeans and pulls on a cardigan over his shirt. When he leans over, just the barest hint of the bra is visible, but Tadashi knows once Kei’s finished pulling on his winter-time layers, it will be invisible. Knowing it’s there, though… it’s torture.

And Kei takes advantage of it all night. When they walk to the restaurant, he picks Tadashi’s hand up and sets it on the small of his back, underneath his cardigan and peacoat, where the raised straps of the garterbelt can be felt; as they eat, Kei slips his loafer off and rubs his slightly scratchy lace stockinged toes against the bare strip of skin between Tadashi’s Keds and his cuffed jeans underneath the table. He grins and smirks and pulls off his scarf midway through the entrée and makes a deal over scooting to the edge of his seat and leaning over so he can take Tadashi’s hand.

He smirks as he runs his thumb over Tadashi’s pulse point. “You alright? You seem a bit flushed,” he drawls slowly.

Tadashi swallows hard. He can see the crisscross of the bralette; it occurs to him that usually, the collars on Kei’s shirts aren’t so loose. “I… is that my shirt?”

“Maybe,” Kei drawls, looking very much like a cat that’s caught a mouse in the corner. The pressure of his foot returns against his knee, and Kei leans back into the booth’s seat, toes curling against the inside of Tadashi’s thigh.

Tadashi swallows again, face burning as he thinks about the pink little lines that are going to come up on Kei’s skin where the straps rub against his skin. He decides he’s going to kiss them all, suck hickies onto every place they were. He wants to roll down the stockings slowly; he’s sure that the lace has imprinted into the softest parts of Kei’s skin by now, and if it hadn’t, he thinks he’ll pull the fabric until they do. He’ll run his cheek against the inside of Kei’s thigh, and nuzzle his knee as he pulls the stockings down. Maybe Kei will complain, but judging by the way he’s massaging his toes against his thigh, inching closer to his crotch, maybe he won’t.

Maybe he’ll just take off one stocking, press kisses against the inside of Kei’s Achilles, against the arch of his foot, let Kei curl his toes against his tongue the way they’re curling into denim. Maybe he’ll suck and bite at Kei’s ankle until it bruises, and make him use that other, still-stockinged foot to get him off.

Kei rubs the ball of his foot against the fly of Tadashi’s jeans and it almost hurts, but the pressure is gone just as soon as it comes as Kei straightens and reaches for his wineglass. “Finish eating, it looks like you need to go home soon,” he murmurs, voice sweet despite the gleam in his eyes. “Poor thing.”

Tadashi hums softly and resumes eating with shaking fingers, heat in his belly making it hard to focus on the food. His mind is still racing to all the ways he wants to slowly strip Kei of all those straps and lace. Bite into the flesh that peeks out between the straps, nuzzle against the fabric and let the lace scrape against his cheeks and lips. “This was a good idea,” he says, voice a bit rougher than it really should be.

“It’ll be even better later on,” Kei chuckles. He runs a finger against his wineglass. “Next time, I think, the color will be mint. It would look good against your freckles.”

 


	4. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not really a surprise that it happened, but it’s a surprise that Kei was into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of yesterday's prompt. Goodbye world.

“T…tsukki,” Tadashi says weakly, eyeing the plate of strawberry cheesecake that was just brought out for his blond lover. “I thought you said we needed to go home soon?”

Kei raises an eyebrow at Tadashi’s overly hopeful tone and taps his fork idly against the edge of his plate. “Yes,” he drawls slowly. He cuts off a tiny piece of the cheesecake with the edge of his fork. “Well, you _perked_ right up, so I think there’s time for desert.” He punctuates his words with a nudge of his foot over Tadashi’s lap, letting the sole of his foot curve against the place where Tadashi’s slight erection strains against his jeans.

Tadashi swallows hard and gives a small twitch of his hand in acknowledgement. He reaches for his wineglass and takes a long swallow just to have something to do with himself.

Kei grinds his heel harshly against Tadashi. “Don’t get drunk,” he warns.

Tadashi shudders as Kei drops his foot from him, “I won’t,” he promises. Though, for what he wants to do, really, it doesn’t matter if he’s drunk or not. It’s more or less about exploring rather than getting off—though, he thinks, as he watch Kei give little kitten laps to his fork, tongue catching strawberry syrup in a childish display of feigned allure, he wouldn’t much mind if he got off with Kei’s foot on his dick.

Kei gives a small hum—Tadashi isn’t sure whether it’s directed at him, or the cheesecake. He thinks it might be the cake, judging by the happy little groan he gives a few bites later. Tadashi takes another sip of wine and lets his thoughts wander, aided by Kei’s small noises and the knowledge that soon, he’s going to be able to unwrap Kei from all those straps and all that lace, just like he was a present.

Kei finishes his cake and Tadashi finishes his wine without anymore illicit footplay: While it’s probably a good thing that Kei’s slipped his shoe back on and has simply resorted to teasing Tadashi via subtle foodplay (there was a moment where Tadashi thought he would keel over right there, when Kei scooped up some of the syrup and cake with his fingers and proffered the goop across the table— _we are at a highly recommended eating establishment,_ Tadashi wants to cry—and lets it smear across Tadashi’s lips when he inevitably leans forward to suck it off of Kei’s fingers), Tadashi’s a bit disappointed that nothing...racier has happened.

When he finishes his cake, Kei simply reaches out and rubs his thumbs over Tadashi’s knuckles,  grinning smugly the entire time. They chat about their usual things as they wait for the check. They pay.

Kei rises from the table first and holds his hand out for Tadashi. Nothing is unusual, yet Tadashi’s entire body is ringing like a taut wire. They hold hands and continue to talk about work and school and internships and make plans for their next date and decide that a movie night would be fun. The entire time Kei rubs his thumbs in small circles against Tadashi’s hand as Tadashi thinks about how Kei’s fingers feel when they curl into his hair during sex.

As soon as the door closes to their apartment and the lock turns in its tumbler, Tadashi’s hands are on Kei’s hips, fingers digging against his hips, feeling the rise of the garter belt. Kei laughs against his mouth, tugging on Tadashi’s lips with his teeth. “Eager,” he teases.

Tadashi huffs softly, kissing Kei with a hungry force; he still tastes like the gratuity mints he’d grabbed a handful of on their way out of the restaurant, and it makes Tadashi laugh quietly. He pulls back and starts undoing the buttons of Kei’s peacoat, pushing it off as Kei kicks off his loafers.

Tadashi has a bit more problems with his own shoes, and Kei laughs at him as he struggles to kick his keds off and take his jacket off at the same time. He stumbles upright just in time for Kei to loop his scarf around him and use it to pull him into the apartment.

Tadashi follows along happily, licking his lips. They get to the bedroom and Tadashi slips out from under the scarf. He grabs Kei’s hips again and walks him backwards to the bed, sealing their lips together messily. Their noses bump and Kei’s glasses dig into the arc of his cheeks, but Tadashi’s past caring. “Strip,” he murmurs, nudging Kei’s knee with his own. “Just the clothes?”

Kei hums and pulls his clothes off, piece by piece, until he’s in just the lingerie again. Tadashi reaches out and lets his hands wander as they kiss, feeling over every inch and stitch of fabric. The way Kei’s skin is slightly sweaty against the band of the bra, how the strap digs into Kei’s shoulder blades, and how Kei’s miss-hooked the eyes on the back, with two on one row and the last on another. The little gap between Kei’s chest and the tiny curve of the cup. Where two of the straps of the garter belt have gotten tangled.

Tadashi groans against Kei’s lips and tongue and pushes him down onto the edge of the bed. He breaks away from their kiss and sinks to his knees, mouth dragging briefly against Kei’s neck, then his stomach. He nuzzles against the lace of the simple black boyshort underwear underneath the garter, earning a stifled gasp and a small shudder.

He trails a finger against the garter strap before popping it once against Kei’s thigh. He undoes it and pushes it aside before he busies his mouth with sucking against the soft inner flesh that’s been bared to him already. He’s pleased that Kei’s already leaning back onto his palms and giving Tadashi room between his legs. He nuzzles against the newly made hickey, giving a soft murmur as his skin brushes against Kei’s stocking. He slips his hand underneath Kei’s thigh and lifts it in the air, postioning Kei until his foot rests firmly on his shoulder.

He fumbles with the back clasp of the garter for a moment until it pops free, elastic swinging in the air for a moment. “Oh, Tsukki,” he murmurs, eyeing the bright pink indent in the back of his lover’s thigh. “Was it uncomfortable?”

“Not really,” Kei murmurs, voice low and breathy.

Tadashi runs his finger against the circular indent, pressing hard on it for a brief second. Kei’s thigh trembles, and against Tadashi’s shoulder, his toes curl. Tadashi cranes his neck a bit and presses the tip of his tongue against the circular mark. He traces it with his tongue before kissing it, then biting. He sucks until he’s certain a bruise will bloom before he allows Kei to relax his leg.

“Tsukki, you look so nice,” Tadashi moans softly. Kei’s foot falls against his thigh. His toes curl and Kei looks down at him under the rim of his glasses.

“Take your clothes off,” Kei murmurs, flexing his toes again before nudging at Tadashi’s fly.

Tadashi nods and pulls his sweater off, tossing it thoughtlessly behind him. He undoes his jeans and wiggles out of them awkwardly, unwilling to leave his worshipful position at Kei’s feet. He eventually gets them off, as well as his own boxers.

Kei nods and gives a satisfied smile. His foot rubs against Tadashi’s unclothed erection, earning a very satisfied moan.  
  
“Mmn, no,” Tadashi murmurs, stomach trembling as Kei points his toes and rubs the head of his dick with them. He reaches up and grabs Kei’s calf, “Not yet,” he whispers. He smoothes his hands up Kei’s le until he can hook his fingers around the band of Kei’s stockings; he starts inching them down, pleased at the pink and white patterns the tight material has left on his lover’s skin.

He kisses each inch of skin that he uncovers as he rolls down the stocking, paying special attention to Kei’s knees and the line of his shin. “You shaved for this,” he murmurs, nibbling at the sharp line of bone down Kei’s calf. It’s not a question. The usual downy covering of white-blond curls was gone.

“Yeah,” Kei answers, voice rough. His leg tenses briefly as Tadashi licks over the sensitive spot on the inside of his ankle. His voice melts into a moan as Tadashi bites at it and sucks, fingers already slowly massaging over the skin of Kei’s foot, feeling over tendons and joints.

He follows his fingers, pressing soft little kisses and nips along the length of Kei’s foot. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue between Kei’s toes, letting Kei slide them into his mouth. He sucks softly and Kei gives a small groan.

“Tadashi stop playing around,” he mumbles, thighs tensing as he braces himself.

Tadashi ignores the warmth burning in his stomach and continues on until Kei curls his toes tightly against his tongue in warning, nudging his stomach with his other, still-stockinged foot. Tadashi pulls away, admiring the shiny sheen of saliva on Kei’s toes. He leans back up and puts chin on Kei’s knee.

He reaches out and tugs just so at Kei’s underwear, watching the way Kei’s erection strains against them. He shuffles forwards on his knees and presses his lips against where the leaking tip is smearing shiny, white precum against the lace netting. He sucks once, before tugging Kei free.

“Use your other foot,” Tadashi murmurs, blinking up hazily at Kei with a lopsided smirk.

Kei obliges rather easily—his lover never was one to continue teasing once Tadashi had his mouth on his dick.

Tadashi gives a groan around Kei’s erection as the blond’s foot finds his own cock and rubs his arch against his length, lace rough against his skin. In return, Tadashi starts to bob his head, sucking in earnest.

One of Kei’s hands winds into his hair, urging him forward. Tadashi grabs a hold of Kei’s hips, breath coming out harsh and uneven as Kei curls his toes just so around him and twitches his ankle. He nearly chokes on Kei as he moans, and he pulls back, concentrating his attention on the tip as Kei angles his foot to grind his heel against his base.

It feels rough and filthy, and Tadashi loves it. His back and stomach burn and his thighs are tight from straining to hold steady. He leans his forehead against Kei’s stomach and moans loudly. He thinks he tries to make it into a word, to beg Kei to be a bit rougher with him, to make it hurt just a bit, to grind his heel again, but it all comes out garbled. He wants to be laid back on the floor and stepped on, but he’s far too close to even try to maneuver them into that position.

He slips one hand off of Kei’s hip and uses it to pump the blond’s erection as he licks and sucks on it. Kei continues to rub him off with his foot, using his big toe to press against the head and then trace a line down his shaft.

Tadashi leans his head up and moans, shuddering. He moves his hand instead, but quickly loses rhythm. “Kei,” he groans once before his voice breaks, and then he’s coming against Kei’s sole, feeling the semen that wasn’t caught by the blond’s stockings trickle back down his cock and against his thighs.

Kei gives a small sound that sounds a bit like a strangled laugh. “Too much wine,” Tadashi hears him say.

Tadashi blinks a few times through his haze, face buried against Kei’s trembling stomach. Kei’s erection brushes past his cheek, reminding him of the task at hand. He turns his head and takes Kei back into his mouth, sucking and swallowing until Kei comes in his mouth, toes curling against Tadashi’s bare thighs.

Kei falls back onto the bed, panting roughly. Tadashi crawls up and curls next to him, popping the band of the bra lazily. “Very nice surprise,” he murmurs sleepily.

“You watched me buy this,” Kei retorts.

“Still a surprise that you bothered enough to shave,” Tadashi points out. Kei only sighs and rolls over on his side to press their foreheads together in reply.


	5. Hot Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They take the time to make time for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Naruko ](http://www.travel-around-japan.com/k24-06-naruko-hot-spring.html)is located in northwestern Miyagi, and is a major tourist destination. The [ryokan ](https://www.489pro.com/asp/489/menu.asp?id=04000005&ty=lim&plan=14,15,16&lan=ENG)they stay at, as well as the [touristy](http://en.naruko.gr.jp/craft.html)-[things ](http://en.naruko.gr.jp/spot.html)they [partake](http://www.bentenkaku.jp/eng/special/index.html) in are real attractions in the Naruko area. WHOO that’s a bit of research for such a short ficlet.

Between classes and their jobs, their time together gets fairly limited fairly quickly. It doesn't bother them much, because they make the effort to squeeze in time: whether it be making dinner together, or sitting together on their small balcony, wrapped in a quilt, mugs of tea or bottles of beer in hand as they just talk.

“Tsukki! I’m home, and guess what!” Tadashi calls excitedly as he pushes open their apartment door.

Kei looks over the back of the sofa in idle interest; “Welcome back,” he murmurs. “And what?”

Tadashi drops his keys into the ceramic bowl (a gift from Yachi’s pottery class) and starts shedding snow-dampened clothes. “I begged and begged and I finally got the week off!” he says excitedly, hanging his coat and soggy beanie on the rack. He leans forwards and starts u lacing his boots. “They found another student to cover me at the daycare and since I've never been late or taken a personal leave before, they really didn't have a reason to not approve my vacation request!”

Kei perks up at the news turning his body towards the back of the sofa so he can watch Tadashi struggle with his boots. “Is that so?” he asks, which Tadashi easily interprets as the excitement it is.

“Yes!” Tadashi gushes. He steps out of his boots, grinning ear-to-ear as he makes his way around the sofa to plop down next to Kei, grabbing his hands with chilled fingers. “That means we can go to Naruko after all!”

“You’re sure you’d rather go to Naruko? It's so touristy.”

“Which is why we should go! It's an important part of Miyagi, after all! And all those onsen, Tsukki. You’re the one who suggested it!” Tadashi laughs in delight.

Kei smiles and brings Tadashi’s cold fingers to his lips, kissing each softly.  “Only because you complain about aching like an old man, Yamaguchi,” he mock scolds.

“Says the man who drinks sake after a bath and wears stomach warmers to the shrine visits on New Years,” Tadashi teases back, nudging knees with Kei. “And your back cracks just like an old man’s. A trip to the onsen will be good for us,” he continues.

“It will be,” Kei agrees. “I’ll book is a room at one of the ryokans. We’ll take the trains. It's only a little while away.”

“And we can go trail walking, and see the gorge!”

“I think it’s a little late in the year for that; by this time it’s the swans,” Kei comments idly, reaching out to press a finger to Tadashi’s pink, wind-chilled cheeks. “Go take a bath and warm up, silly. You’re still ice-cold. We can cement our plans afterwards.”

Tadashi whines softly, “But, Tsukki,” he complains. Kei pinches his nose until Tadashi laughs and wiggles away. “Okay, fine! But you better have booked the room by the time I get back”

Kei waves a hand dismissively, pulling his laptop off the coffee table into his lap. “Already working on it,” he drawls.

Tadashi gives a serious nod and slides off the couch. By the time he emerges, warm and damp and in pajamas, Kei has already printed out the reservation confirmation. “It’s a six/eight mat room, with a bath and a private restroom. Eleven thousand a night.”

“Not bad,” Tadashi praises, looking at the sheet. “We’d saved up for more a night.”

“More money to spend on souvenirs, I suppose,” Kei murmurs. He tugs at the hem of Tadashi’s shirt. “…Did you use my soap again?”

“Mm. And I suppose I’ll need to look up train tickets,” Tadashi says, ignoring the query. It wasn’t as if Kei didn’t already know the answer. Kei clicks his tongue and shakes his head as Tadashi settles back onto the sofa next to him, skin warm and damp as it brushes against him when the brunet reaches for his laptop. 

They spend the next month planning for their trip—who will take care of their cat and water the plants while they’re away, doing prep work for the people covering their various shifts at work and doing the work that would be due after their university’s break. They’ve decided, though, that other than their train and sleeping arrangements, they would do everything else spontaneously.

For them, it’s good. It keeps them relaxed enough when they get there to enjoy themselves. They stroll about the resort in their yukata and haori, with Kei fussing over Tadashi’s absently forgetting to tie his haori shut in the dead of winter.  

They eat and drink; Kei is partial to the kuri dango, while Tadashi is partial to the shisomaki. One night, they stay in their hotel room and drink sake until they’re both quietly giggly and tripping over the mats on their way to their futon (they’ve pulled both futons close so they can curl together between them), hands everywhere. 

They brave the cold to walk the trails at Naruko gorge, Tadashi oohing and ahhing the entire time, thumb continuously on his phone’s camera. They both chose to bathe afterwards to warm up. 

Tadashi hums, clutching his towel happily. It’s not the first time they’ve used the bath, but he’s especially excited to be able to feel his toes again after the trail walk. “This all is so relaxing,” he murmurs, beaming over at Kei.

Kei hums in agreement. Tadashi continues on as they strip and move over to start rinsing off before getting into the bath.

“I mean, we’re moving around a lot, but it’s nice not to worry,” Tadashi murmurs.

“We don’t worry,” Kei replies, making his way to the edge of the bath. “Much.”

“There’s the operative word, Tsukki,” Tadashi chuckles, sinking into the onsen after Kei. He gives a deep sigh and leans back, eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want to go back home. Let me live here forever.”

“You’ll boil inside out,” Kei murmurs letting his fingers tap Tadashi’s thigh underneath the water.

“You know what I mean,” Tadashi scolds, moving his hand so they can lace their fingers. “Sometimes it feels like we never see each other, despite living together. We work hard, but. It’s nice to not have to work to get to see you.”

“I know,” Kei murmurs, squeezing Tadashi’s hand. “That’s why we came. I don’t know if we’ll ever be less busy, but…”

“If we keep doing things like this, we’ll be okay, I think,” Tadashi muses. He opens one eye and looks over at Kei, who’s cheeks have already begun to flush from heat. He gives a soft smile. “I feel revitalized,” he teases. “Look at you all warm and relaxed. This onsen is doing wonders.”

“Perv,” Kei replies, not even bothering to crack his eyes open. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I was making one,” Tadashi laughs.

Kei snorts and squeezes his hand. They stay until they’re too warm to soak any longer. But Tadashi—subtext not withstanding—the trip is revitalizing. By the time they return to Sendai, he has more energy and feels more relaxed around Tadashi, not as strained and desperate about their time, or lack of time, together. And he knows Tadashi feels the same way.

It’s worth the trip.


	6. Selfie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi laughed and said, _You’ll thank me when we’re old and want to look back on these!_ Kei doesn’t think he’s old now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the same universe as [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3263948/chapters/7402265) prompt from Tsukkiyamafest.

Tadashi loves taking pictures; so much so, that Kei had once teased him that he should try to aim to be a photographer, not a teacher. He thinks that maybe, for a second, Tadashi considered. He’s not sure. It seems strange to ask now, since it was so long ago.

Privately, though, Kei thinks Tadashi has an eye. He made the pictures he took on a dinky old hand-me-down digital camera that was old before it was even sold make good when they were in early junior high. And again when he got his first flip phone. By the time they went to high school, Tadashi had upgraded his phone once again, having envied Kei’s front-turning phone camera since the moment he got his new phone their third year in junior high.

Before that, though, Tadashi had filled Kei’s phone with selfies of them. Practice, homework, bus rides, stops at bakeries— all of it had been documented by Tadashi’s skilled fingers.

Round-faced and awkward, they both fill the camera screen; this was when Tadashi had that botched haircut that grew out awkwardly, Kei remembers, tapping the screen idly. Tadashi hadn’t liked it because his bangs couldn’t cover his acne as well as the longer cut had. There are a couple of pictures that he’d taken rather halfheartedly, sort of hunched over, until…

Kei swipes again, laughing at the next blurry picture. He remembers being completely fed up with Tadashi’s sulking—it was hair and his face was fine—that he’d elbowed his friend mid-photo in the side.

They were a lot more carefree back then. It was funny how going to high school changed them both. Kei remembers shutting down; there was something about putting on the uniform that left a black taste in his mouth that he hadn’t anticipated back when he’d decided to stubbornly go to Karasuno, even though he had decided he would never end up like his brother.

The pictures then were more of things than them. Though Tadashi still insisted on selfies, they were less frequent, and on Tadashi’s own phone. One on their entrance ceremony, Tadashi’s smile sheepish and crooked and Kei’s eyes averted. There are some from volleyball practice, Hinata blurred into an orange smudge in the background. Some of them have their senpai purposefully photobombing.

They taper off again. A ball and water bottle.  The way the moon looked through the windows of the bus the night they left for Tokyo. All photos that Tadashi had sent him with little messages attached; Kei doesn’t have them anymore, just the pictures, which he’d saved from phone to computer to phone again.

Then there’s a new explosion of them. Some of them have Tadashi grinning ear to ear—some even have Kei himself smiling. He’s older now, and can see it on both of their faces, the thing that changed between them after that night at the summer camp. They way they look when in their photo’s is so warm. Kei remembers being fond of Tadashi’s selfie habit then because it gave him an excuse to push their body’s close, bump cheeks.

He’d been so glad when Tadashi had asked him out. Shocked, because he thought he was the only one who’d been pining, but so glad.

Pictures of dates. Pictures of Kei. Selfies alone that Tadashi had sent him. One of them kissing. Their entwined fingers. Museum pictures from their first date.  

Tadashi had taken pictures of it all, laughing as Kei grumbled.

_You’ll thank me when we’re old and want to look back on these!_ He’d laughed, face crinkling in mirth.

Kei doesn’t think he’s too old now. Nineteen isn’t old at all. And the pictures have already stopped.

He’s reached the end of the album, wondering why the last picture of them he has hadn’t given him a hint.

It’s not really a selfie, it’s something his brother took for them. It’s them in their uniform, on graduation, paper flowers pinned to their lapels. His hand is on Tadashi’s shoulder, face impassive. Tadashi looks… small. And sad. Tired.

He did that to Tadashi.

_We need to stop_ , he’d said. _I’m not happy. I’m so sorry._

He did that. And never knew, until it was too late.

_I was miserable. For a long time. Before we went to college._

But he can see it now.

He hits the home button and opens up Instagram. For a long time, the pictures had stopped. But there are new ones now.

Tadashi looks happier. His face has lost some of its stubborn puppy fat, and it looks like he’s started to grow into his broad shoulders, finally.

Textbooks, dorm rooms. Coffee cups with little dogs drawn on them. Actual little dogs. A selfiie: him  and Yachi. Another. Him and Hinata. More. Him and a boy Kei doesn’t know, but assumes from the #collegelyfe! he decides it must be his roommate.

Pictures that Kei has no right to look at. Pictures he won’t be privy to, or know the story behind. Selfies without him.

Tadashi, smiling. Tadashi is happy. That’s what Kei wanted, that’s why he did the things he did. He wanted Tadashi to be free, to be able to choose and have his own life, and not worry about having to match up with him, to keep up with him. All those hours studying to get into the same college, worrying about money, all of it—he knew it had taken a toll on Tadashi and he’d gone somewhere Tadashi had no chance of following in the hopes that Tadashi could chose what he wanted.

It’s just that… he hadn’t realized that what Tadashi had ended up wanting was a different sort of freedom.

He closes the app and sighs.

He opens his messages, skimming over Akiteru’s last text.

**You sounded really down when you called, just let me know  you’re ok since you won’t answer the phone again. Let me know about your transfer request progress too!**

Kei taps the ‘add photo’ and then opens up the camera. He shakily takes a picture of himself, then of his transfer paper and sends them both to his brother without comment.

He studies the photo of himself he took. Pale and tired looking, the bags under his eyes dark and his cheeks sharp from forgetting to eat. His hair is in need of a trim and his glasses are smudged. The angle is odd. His finger is visible.

It’s a terrible photo. Nothing like what Tadashi could take.

Nothing was ever as good as Tadashi.

A year later, when the pictures have resumed again, now with a taller, broader Tadashi who stands up straight and speaks louder, some of them are initiated and taken by Kei himself.

They’re still terrible, Kei’s pictures, but he’s glad to take them.


	7. Sleeping Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei is fourteen and has pillow envy.

It’s no secret that Tadashi is a serial sleep snuggler. If there’s a pillow nearby, Tadashi will grab it as he sleeps and hug it close. Kei’s watched him nuzzle his face into pillows, sofa-cushions, blankets, even the pillows of teammates and classmates during overnight camps.

But much to Kei’s surprise, Tadashi doesn’t snuggle up to people. It’s always inanimate objects. The first time they’d had to share a bed during a sleepover, Kei had expected to be glommed on and snuggled to death and back; instead, he woke up with a stiff neck because somehow, Tadashi had stolen and snuggled up with his pillow.

At the time, Kei had really been too young to describe what he felt at the sight as conflicted disappointment, but as he grows, he learns to identify it. Tadashi’s peaceful—albeit a bit obnoxious when he occasionally wakes up sans blanket or pillows—sleeping habits are cute, but at age fourteen and with a crush the size of the Pacific on his best friend, it’s _very_ disappointing that no cuddling shenanigans happen.

It’s such a cliché, though; best friends share a bed, one with a crush on the other, and they end up tangled together, cuddling first thing in the morning. He’s ashamed to admit that he wanted it to happen, really. Kei sighs and rolls back over, watching the morning rain slide down his window. It could have been a good time to confess, he thinks.

He rolls over again, so he can watch the way Tadashi’s shoulders rise and fall in his sleep. The room is gray with dull morning light; it’s probably much later than the light indicates it should be. Maybe it’s eight, or even nine. Someone will come and wake them up soon.

He shifts a bit under the blankets, letting his fingers reach out to skim into Tadashi’s personal space. He’s not close enough to touch, not really, but enough to feel his friend’s warmth against the sheets. The arch of his neck is exposed, bony and freckled with wisps of hair fanning out. Kei feels sleepy again, but still so very disappointed.

Tadashi’s stronger than he looks, Kei knows. He has the beginnings of broadness around him; he just _looks_ like he gives good hugs. Kei hasn’t ever gotten a hug from his friend, but he wants one.

He used to think it made him weird, to want that from his best friend—another boy at that. But then he decided that it didn’t really matter anyway. What mattered is if Tadashi thought it was weird or not. But here they are, at fourteen, sleeping in the same bed because the guest futon got rained on. And all he had done was grin at Kei and chirp at him to wake him up if he stole the pillows again.

Kei wouldn’t. Tadashi’s too hard to wake. He sleeps through anything, really—which is why he doesn’t think it will hurt to inch slowly forward and rest his forehead against the base of Tadashi’s neck. He’s so very warm.

Very warm, and he smells like mint and the blueberry lip balm he uses, even though it had been hours since he’d last put it on. Maybe Kei’s making the blueberry smell up, since he always associates Tadashi with it. He doesn’t know, but it’s warm and he can feel Tadashi breathe, a steady in-out-in-out rise and fall against his skin.

He thinks that maybe this was a mistake: that he should move before Tadashi wakes up or he gets caught by his mother. But it’s so peaceful even though his heart is pounding and his stomach feels like he’s skipped a step going down stairs. Tadashi’s hair tickles his skin as he inches closer, moving his face up so his nose brushes right under his friend’s ear.

He should stop, because Tadashi doesn’t ever touch him more than gentle taps to the inside of his wrists and a hand cupped against his shoulder. He doesn’t know if Tadashi likes to be touched—Kei certainly doesn’t, not by anyone who isn’t his family or Tadashi. He doesn’t know if there’s a girl somewhere that Tadashi likes, or if Tadashi even likes girls, or if he’s like Kei is and is indifferent to gender. But Tadashi is so warm, and Kei is sleepy.

He remembers thinking about wrapping his arm around Tadashi’s waist, but he’s not entirely sure if it’s a thought or an actual action, only that his hand finds something warm and soft, and he curls his fingers around it in his sleep.

When Tadashi wakes up, the first thing he notices is the weight against his back. He thinks, at first, that somehow, he and Kei have switched places during the night and he’s pressed up against the wall. But then he feels breath against his neck. It’s hot and it makes his stomach flutter. He blinks awake.   
  
The next thing he notices is the warmth against his hand. He’s curled around a pillow like usual, fingers curled into the fabric of the case, but there’s something new. There are fingers threaded through his own, a palm slightly larger than his own covering the back of his hand.   
  
He opens his eyes a bit wider and looks down. Long, pale fingers and a slender wrist lead to the arm that’s settled comfortably at his waist. Slowly, Tadashi looks over his shoulder; as he shifts, the arm around him tightens and the person behind him makes a noise of complaint.   
  
Tadashi’s nose bumps against pale skin, and he can barely make out blond curls and long eyelashes. His heart lurches and he feels heat flood into his face. Somehow, during the night, Kei had rolled over and snuggled up against him. Held onto him. Grabbed his hand.   
  
Tadashi feels his throat grow tight with overwhelming fondness. “Tsukki,” he murmurs, voice a bit rough from sleep. “Tsukki, wake up.”

Kei’s eyelashes brush against his skin as he wakes. Tadashi is sad that he’s broken the moment to wake up Kei, but he couldn’t just bask in his friend’s sleepy affection without feeling guilty. The grip on his hand loosens enough that Tadashi can slip away and roll over, so that he can watch Kei wake.

Brown eyes blink open slowly, and Tadashi can watch as confusion, then shock, then embarrassment, flash across Kei’s sleepy face.

“Sorry,” Kei mumbles quickly, lifting his arm suddenly.

Tadashi reaches out and grabs Kei’s hand again. “Don’t be,” he says. “It was comfortable. I just… wanted to know if it was an accident?” he asks. He can’t keep the shy tremble out of his voice, but he doesn’t break eye contact.

Kei flushes, eyes darting to where Tadashi threads their fingers together. He looks back at his friend, then shakes his head. “I wanted to,” he mumbles.

Tadashi smiles and scoots forward, bumping a quick, closed-lipped kiss to Kei’s forehead. He nuzzles up against Kei’s body, tucking his cheek comfortably against his friend’s collar, sighing happily as Kei wraps his arms around him, nose burying into his hair.

“Who would have thought you’d be a cuddlebug,” Tadashi teases. “That’s so cute, Tsukki.”

“Shut up,” Kei mumbles, squeezing Tadashi tightly.

Tadashi hugs back with a chime of ‘sorry!’, but he’s really not sorry at all.


End file.
